Not Just A Watch
by whydontyouallf-fadeaway
Summary: Tim tries to find the secrets behind his time travel watch; why he's been given it, who gave it to him and how and why it works. After meeting people who he believes can help him but to almost no avail, a lady suggests he travels to the time the watch was made and follow it. But the journey takes him into a much bigger realisation that will change his life forever. (Super Power AU)
1. Chapter 1

It had been almost a year since this ordinary digital watch came into Tim Williamson's possession and he still had no idea why it was given to him. Over the last year, he tried to not think much of it, he sometimes quite enjoyed being able to travel in time like the watch allowed him to but with it coming up to a year since he got it, it's playing on his mind again.

So many reasons flashed through his mind about why he was given this watch but they all seemed too far-fetched, like something out of a novel. He toyed with the idea of phoning his parents, checking whether it was a family heirloom or something but even that seemed ridiculous to him.

Looking down at the digital timepiece bound to his wrist, he examined it again, something he had done countless times since it came to him. He even tried to take it apart once, but when he tried that, something weird happened; it fixed itself just like the movies, in a trail of yellow neon particles. Tim wanted answers, but he had no idea where to begin. Somehow searching anything online that was the truth about this watch sounded even more laughable.

But he thought it was worth a try. Taking out his laptop his brought up the search engine and searched anything about a time travelling watch. Unsurprisingly it gave him nothing; and neither did anything else.

He placed his head in his hands and rubbed his face in frustration. He knew that someone, somewhere knows something and a simple internet search isn't going to find them.

Shutting the laptop back down, he grabs his coat and goes for a walk hoping that the metaphorical light bulb would ping in his brain and he'll think of someone to go and see for some sort of guidance. He walked past a shop and decided he wanted a bottle of water and a sandwich. On his way in something in the window caught his eye, a small piece of card that requested people with strange antiques to come to see them. Tim wasn't sure if seeing these people was a bad idea and he knew that he would probably think he was crazy by bringing a ridiculous thing to them. But he needed answers and though they probably couldn't provide them, he was willing to try anything.

He took down the number and address on the card in the window and made his way back home to grab his car keys and make the drive over.

It didn't take him long to arrive at the location. A quaint little antique shop that seemed a little creepy, but oddly, Tim liked it. Opening the door, the bell rang as the top of the door bashed it and he walked across the threshold. A man soon came onto the shop floor, and Tim assumed he was the owner. The man walked up to him, "Afternoon, sir, anything I can help you with?"

"I saw a card in the window of a shop and I have something that I was hoping you could take a look at." he said politely. The man raised his arm and directed Tim into a back room. The room he walked into was much smaller than the shop floor; a round table sat in the middle of the room and three chairs surrounded it with two more against the wall in case of more visitors. His stomach fluttered and for some reason, he began to get nervous. He knew that this watch could only be a big deal if he made it as such, and they probably didn't know anything, but he still had to know either way.

"I'm Mickey Ellis and this is my wife, Florence." he introduced and Tim smiled in response. Mickey extended his hand and Tim shook it before moving on to shake Florence's hand.

"I'm Tim. Williamson."

"What can we do for you?"

Tim's voice seemed to have been stolen the minute he walked into the shop and it took him a few moments to speak, "I was sent this watch about a year ago. I have no idea why." he said, taking it off of his wrist and handing it over to Mickey. "I just wondered if it was special or something."

Mickey took a loupe out of his waistcoat pocket and looked closely at the watch. Tim felt his breathing quicken as he took a look. He looked up from the watch and looked worried, but Tim didn't pick up on it. Looking at his wife, he passed it over and after a few more minutes, she also looked concerned about the watch.

A small smile came on the shop owner's face and he handed the watch back, "Nothing special about it, Mr Williamson. The watch was made in around 1981." That was all Mickey was willing to say.

Tim didn't expect much knowing it would seem ordinary and normal on the surface. He was a little disappointed that he couldn't get any answers from them. "Thanks." he smiled and he stood from his seat. Shaking the married couple's hands once more, Tim made his way out of the shop.

Mickey covered his mouth and hyperventilated a little. "It's impossible." he exclaimed. He rushed over to a filing cabinet and took out a file that was filled to the seams of old newspaper articles – most of which written by a man named Lysander Tobois – about strange goings on that he believed were connected to an old timepiece identical to Tim's.

"We should've told him the truth, Mickey." Florence said. The pitched of her voice was much higher than normal, almost a squeak and her face had turned a worrying greying colour that slowly started to match her hair. "That watch. It's going to change his life forever."

"Shut up, Florence." he snapped. He slammed the file shut and returns it to the cabinet. The noise of Mickey forcefully shutting the filing cabinet back up made his wife jump. She had never seen her husband so angry or rattled before; but then neither of them thought the watch actually existed.

Tim parked his car outside Marcella's hoping she was home; she was the only person he could and wanted to talk to about this. She was and still is the only person who knows about the watch, and he was still the only person who knew about her power.

The key rattled in the lock and he let himself in. Marcella had rushed down the stairs and looked briefly worried, "Sorry." Tim said, realising he probably scared her.

"I forget I gave you key sometimes, that's all." she replies. Tim walks closer to her and presses his lips to hers. When he broke it off, Marcella could tell he looked down. It wasn't often she saw that face in him, but it was still one she began to know quite well. "What's up?"

Tim shakes his head and let's go of her, "It's nothing." he lied as he strayed away to sit on the sofa. He was kidding only himself when he said it was nothing, she wasn't buying it and deep down, neither was he.

"Oh, come on." she pleaded as she joined him on the sofa. "We promised each other that if anything was bothering us about our... powers, we'd talk about it." Marcella hesitated to use the word 'powers', she never saw it as a power or a gift; if anything, she saw it as a curse. Not because her power was a bad one – it does good for people – but she's only ever used it on Tim. Marcella's power is one of healing, she can control her touch to heal the injured, and it's a power she's had since the death of her daughter, Juliet. She's always felt it was some kind of punishment for not being able to save her, and she really tried to.

"I know." he agreed. He took a deep breath, "It's been almost a year since this watch came to me. I have no idea who from or why and here's the really crazy part – it travels in time." Tim scoffed. It was such a strange sentence for him to even utter.

The watch came packaged in a box with only a leaflet that he was ordered to destroy as soon as he memorised it; and that was only a simple illustration to how the thing worked. His memory for the rest of the day was pretty non-existent, the same for a few days following it. It had became obvious to Marcella when all this started that he doesn't remember quite what she does.

She had always decided not to tell Tim about what happened the day the watch arrived, she always thought that ignorance was bliss in this case. Almost a year ago – shortly after his promotion to DCI – Tim got himself involved with a children's charity and became the Chairman of the Board. Not only that, he got a little too involved with the owner of the charity, and everything turned into a big bloody mess. Literally.

When Marcella found out he had been kidnapped by two men who she believed was hired by Whitman, it took a few hours to even get a lead on his whereabouts. When they finally found him, there was blood everywhere; big streaks as if he had been dragged and puddles big enough to assume he had lost enough to at least put him in a coma. But when she and the team arrived, he was gone. Marcella began to dealt with the fact that he probably wasn't coming home and they had killed him and buried him somewhere but a couple of days later, Tim came home like nothing had happened. She decided it was best that she never asked what happened because he doesn't seem to remember any of the rest of that day.

This conversation became the norm for them of late, he kept wanting to know why he had it, and a part of Marcella wondered why he just couldn't deal with the fact that it had happened, "It's just a watch, Tim." she groaned as she stood up.

"No, it's not. You know that." he says, getting up to follow her. "That'll be like me saying you can 'just heal people' like it's nothing. It's not nothing. What we have... the things we can do, they're something. Something strange."

"But can't you just accept that it is what it is?" she questioned.

"Oh, come on. Don't tell me you've not at least wondered about finding out the answers."

"I already know! I'm being punished by someone, something." she snapped, "I couldn't save my baby so now whoever gave me this curse wants me to try and save others. But I can't!"

Tim was taken aback by her little outburst. Though he understood it. He always quite liked his power and hers had been useful to him in the past. But he knew she hated it, she saw it as a curse, not a gift, and though healing people was a useful power to have, she had only ever used it on him. Because if anyone else found out, God knows what they'll think or do.

"I'm sorry." she mumbled. "I just – I don't want you to get hurt. That watch has already sent you into the middle of a war and you were shot, and I had to heal you. What if next time you can't come back?"

Tim lowered his head and clenched his jaw, she had never heard him speak like that and he never thought of it in such a way. He didn't want to be without her and she couldn't bear to ever lose him in such a way, let alone in a different era. "I just want to know, Marcella. That's all."

She moved towards him and Tim grabbed her by the waist, pulling her closer with a huge grin. "Whatever you do, please, just be careful." she hums. Tim replies with only a smirk before they share a passionate kiss. "Do you need those answers now? Or do you have a little time?" she said with her smirk.

Tim's grin grew and his pupils dilated within in light blue irises, "I have all the time for you." he replied before another passionate kiss absorbed through them both and the passion for each other burned through like a fire.


	2. Chapter 2

Their bodies shimmered with their own sweat as Marcella climbed off of him and they both panted out of breath lying back on the bed. They both turned on their sides and faced each other and they passionately kissed again before Tim's hand gently stroked her cheek and Marcella responded with a similar action. It calmed them both down after such a exhilarating period of pure passion and love between them. It brought her back to the first time they slept together, waking up in the same bed followed by a morning kiss from Tim and them just caressing each others face lovingly, and just like it had back then, it made her forget about all the shit going through her brain; and about this stupid curse.

They kissed once more and Marcella got out of the bed and made her way to the bathroom, leaving Tim on his own. Water runs from the bathroom and Tim gets up and follows the sound and sees Marcella having a shower. Steam fills the cubicle and the condensation gathers on the crystallised glass and Tim slowly walks towards the shower, opens the door and joins her inside. His hair darkens as the water hits it and he glides his hands around Marcella's body that is soaked with the water mixed with the soapy shower gel. She turns around and faces her boyfriend and his lips ran down her neck and pecked her with a kiss every few seconds, "Tim..." she gasped as his lips found their way to her stomach and her fingers pulled lightly on his hair.

Marcella didn't want it to stop, but she had a night shift to get ready for, Tim may not be a police officer any more, but she was and she had to get going. "Tim. I gotta get ready for work." His hands slid back up the side of her figure as he stood back up from his crouching position.

Water continued to hit the surface of their bodies and drip down until it either dries up or merges with the water already on them. His palm covered her cheek and his thumb moved back and forth over her skin before leaning his head forward for one more kiss. Marcella got out of the shower and left Tim alone whilst he finished getting clean. Getting into her work clothes, Tim arrived in the doorway, towel wrapped round his waist but his body was still wet and shiny from from the steam and water of the shower, she turned and smiled at the sight blocking the doorway and as much as she wanted to stay, she had to leave for her long night shift. As she passed Tim in the doorway, she gave him a peck on the cheek and rushed downstairs, grabbing her parka and car keys and leaving.

Tim's watch was on the table next to his side of the bed and as he got changed, he couldn't help but fixate on it again, still wanting the answers. It was too late in the evening to go out and search for them again and the internet already turned up nothing at all but tomorrow, he was going to go back to the Ellis' antique shop.

 **·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·**

The sun shines through the window and Tim's eyes opened. He looked over at Marcella's side of the bed, forgetting that she was still at work and sighed, he wasn't used to waking up without her and it was stranger to not be able to give her kiss.

Tim started to feel people were hiding things from him; the Ellis' seemed to act strange and even Marcella barely spoke when they talked yesterday, and when she did, it was about trying to forget about it, which was easier said then done. Today he decided that he was going back to the antique shop and he wouldn't leave until somebody told him something, anything that was the truth.

After putting on some clothes, he rushed downstairs and made himself a cup of tea. He sits at the kitchen table and tried to do some more research on the watch; not that he was expecting anything new that he hadn't already seen, and nothing which was of use anyway.

He put his empty mug in the dishwasher and grabbed his shoes from the shoe rack. Before grabbing his car keys, he took a piece of paper from a notepad and scribbled a message on it for Marcella when she returned from work, ' _I'll be back later. Hope work wasn't too bad, try and get some sleep. Love you. xx_ ' and left it on the kitchen worktop.

The metal of his keys clinked together as he scooped them up in his hand. If he was going to get anywhere close to getting some answers, he had to have an early start. He wanted to go back to the Ellis' antique shop, he knew they know something and he needed to know whatever it was.

 **·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·**

The bell dinged as Tim walked back into the antique shop. Mickey was nowhere to be seen but instead Florence walked out and smiled, "If you're looking for Mickey, I'm afraid he's not here."

"Actually, I'm looking for you." he replied. Tim knew before he got there that Florence knew much more than she was letting on, and if anyone was going to crack first, it would be her. The woman walked through to the back room of the shop and Tim followed her, "I want to know the truth, Mrs Ellis, about this watch."

Florence's face began draining it's colour again, just like the last time. She wanted to tell Tim about it, it was always Mickey who kept it hidden and she just went along with it. Taking a deep breath, she went over to the filing cabinet and took out the file, "Everything in this file is all we know about your watch. Mickey found it cleaning out a deceased gentleman's house about twenty years ago." she informed him as she placed the file on the table. Tim sat on the chair, and Florence joined him.

Searching through the newspaper cuttings, they all said similar things, 'Time Travel Watch Surfaces', 'Scientists Search For Time Travel Piece', 'Time Travel Watch Watch Wanted' and Tim was taken aback; he had no idea "The dates of these cuttings goes back to the early 50s. Were digital watches like this even made then?"

Florence exhaled, "No." she spoke, "The first digital wrist watch was made in the 1970s, this watch was likely made in the early 50s. The same time these cuttings surfaced."

Tim took a moment, and looked back down, scanning the newspaper cuttings and licked his lips nervously, "Why me, Mrs Ellis?"

"I don't know, Tim." she replied. Tim continued to look through the piles of paper that made up the folder, but nothing seemed to give him the answers he so desperately wanted. He scanned every line, every word and even every single picture to just find any kind of clue. Coming back here, Tim started to think that some sort of progress was being made, and he tried to start to see from Marcella's point of you, about it being just a watch; but there was something still niggling at him. It's not like it was a watch he ordered, at least that would've made a little more sense. This was a random digital watch that turned up at his flat one day.

He still found it strange, and he knows that people are keeping things from him. Even Marcella. Speaking to her yesterday, he now felt that Marcella changing the subject meant something. He didn't think much of it at the time – he was just happy to be around her like he always was – but the way she kept changing the subject, expecting him to just accept it like it was nothing, when he knew she hated the power she had been given. It wasn't nothing, it never was.

Florence was silent as Tim looked through, "There's something I think you should know. Something that isn't in any of these clippings." she admitted. Tim frowned at her, "This watch, there's something else about it."

"What?" he asked, the lines between his eyebrows deepening as he frowned more.

"I don't know."

"Then how do you know?"

"There were other clippings that referred to them." she said before pausing. Looking back at Tim, she knew that Tim wanted to know where they were, "Mickey burned them. I'm sorry."

Tim just wanted to throw the nearest chair to him. Anything to get the anger that was slowly building inside of him out. He was in possession of the watch now, and he couldn't help but wonder what Mickey was hiding and most of all, why he was hiding it. He wondered what could be so bad that he felt the need to burn the clippings about the other thing about it; and even Florence claimed not to know about it, so

"Look, I can't help you, Mr Williamson. But I know somewhere that can." she admits and Tim's face turned to an expression of hope rather than confusion and anger.

"Where?"

"1952. Maryland. It's where that watch was made. Follow the trail of it from there, you should find the answers you need. Find William Frazier, the watchmaker."

Tim stood up, getting his watch ready to make the journey back in time. He never knew what made it go where he needed. It was like just input the year and that was it. As he was just about to press the button on the watch, Florence moved towards him.

"Hold on." she called out, "You do realise you can control when you go, right?" she checked. Tim looked back at her blankly and confused, "Don't tell me you just put in a date and hope for the best?"

"No." he lied with a little stutter.

Florence rolled her eyes, "Top button, you can input coordinates." she informs him, handing him a piece of paper with the numbers scribbled on.

"Right, thanks." he replied looking at the piece of paper.

The bell dings as the shop door opens and Florence turns abruptly towards the sound, "Go. Now!" she demands. Tim inputs the data in the watch and presses the button and before Florence has a chance to do anything, Tim had gone and Mickey was almost in the room.

She tried to quickly grab the folder, shoving the clippings into it, "What are you doing?!" Mickey asked, his voice louder and angrier than usual causing her to drop the folder and papers on to the floor. He looked around as she kneeled down and picked up the papers. Something about the room felt off; Florence was acting strange, looking frightened as soon as he walked into the room. He walked closer to her, crouching down to help her and they placed the papers back into the cardboard folder. Getting up off the floor, Florence returns it to the filing cabinet and turns her attention back to her husband. Mickey's hand raises and rapidly makes it's way to Florence's face, striking it against the skin of her cheek. "You stupid bitch. What have you done?"

"He – he had a right to know, Mickey. That watch -"

"Yeah, yeah, you said; it's going to change his life." he argued back, as Florence holds her cheek from the slap she just received. "Where has he gone?" he asked, but she doesn't reply. "Florence!"

"I sent him to Maryland, 1952."

Mickey shook his head, "No, no no! You stupid, idiotic woman." he insulted, "Please tell me you didn't tell him about the secret."

The look of terror and panic on her face told Mickey the answer, "I – I'm – I'm sorry, Mickey." she apologised, "I didn't tell him it because you told be not to, but I told him to follow the journey of the watch. He's going to find out sooner or later."


	3. Chapter 3

Tim suddenly found himself in an alley somewhere in Maryland in the year 1952. It was always such a strange feeling when he travelled; it felt disorientating, as if he was tipsy on alcohol, but worse. He took a few minutes to get his bearings in the alleyway, though he had absolutely no idea where to go or who to see.

Going somewhere new in time was almost like visiting a completely different planet for him. He thought that because 1952 wasn't so much of a leap for him – only 66 years in the past – it wouldn't be quite so bad. He took a few deep breaths to alleviate the sickness he always felt; it was a bit like car sickness but much worse and he eventually felt right enough to start his journey.

Taking a step out on the street, it was much more clearer to him that his knowledge of where he was going, or who he needed to see, was pretty limited. Looking down at his watch, the time stated it was 12:10pm, but even he wasn't sure if it changed with the time travelled.

Across the road from the alleyway, Tim spots a diner with it's neon open sign flickering and after checking both ways, he made his way over to it and walked in. He never thought that 50s inspired diners that he saw would be quite as close as what he was now standing it. Looking around aimlessly, he wondered if he was looking as stupid as he currently felt as he stood in the middle of the tiled floor.

A jukebox sits in the corner playing some music. He can't say he was familiar with the song, but it added to the atmosphere that he expected in the diner. It was rather quiet, and only a few mutterings from some tables and the music from the jukebox filled the room. Tim knew that if he was going to survive here, he had to know how to blend in. A usual time travel trip was somehow a lot easier than this; he just went for fun, walking around without getting too involved with the things around him, but now, he had to actually talk to people and find the answers he wanted to so desperately receive.

He made his way across to the counter and sat up on one of the stools. "Just a coffee, please." he requested when the lady on the other side of the counter approached him. The lady nodded and it wasn't long before she returned with his coffee. He exchanged a friendly smile with the woman and she left him alone.

He watched her for a moment as she poured the coffee from the pot and into a mug. Her bright blonde hair sits almost perfectly upright in a beehive hairstyle, with curly strands draped down the side of her head and her fringe neatly parted at the side and it still connects beautifully with her hair. Her light aqua blue dress – and her name, Peggy, embroidered on the front in red - with a white apron around her waist matches the colour of the interior of the diner, and she even had a light blue piece of cloth that she uses as a headband that ties around the back of her head. Tim was briefly mesmerised by her, despite being at least half his age; he saw pictures of waitresses from the era in pictures and depicted in movies or on televsion, but it was just captivating seeing one for in the actual flesh, in the 1950s.

Reaching into his pocket he pulled out some coins that Florence handed to him just before he disappeared from the room. He didn't know how much was there and he just hoped it was enough to pay for the coffee.

Back home, Tim was a policeman; so being here, he thought that he should know how to get information out of people, but it wasn't easy when he still felt like he was in a completely different universe. But he told himself that the next person that sat next to him, he was going to try and talk to.

It wasn't long before he had to make good on the promise he just made to himself. A man in his late 40s wearing a light grey suit, complete with a waistcoat of the same colour, a brown and white striped tie and a black fedora hat. His hand sits in his trouser pocket and a long coat is folded roughly as it drapes over his arm. He sits on the stool next to Tim and places his hat down on the counter; it surprised Tim that the man's dark brown hair was still gelled immaculately in place much like Cary Grant's.

"Usual please, Pegs." he smiled at the waitress who nodded and left the area behind the counter as another waitress took her spot. The man turned his head to Tim and gave him a friendly smile, and Tim returned the gesture. Tim still couldn't muster up the courage to find the words he needed to start.

He kept looking around the diner, thinking of anything to distract him from what he knew he needed to do. The first thing that kept catching his attention was how everything was in pure, high definition colour; when he thinks of the 1950s, it's mainly in a sea of black and white photos and movies, but seeing it right in front of him for real was something that equally amazed and terrified him.

The man leaned towards him as Tim looked aimlessly towards the jukebox that was having the song changed by one of the customers in the bar, "I hope you don't mind me saying, son, but you look a little lost."

Tim chuckled nervously and lowered his head as he twisted his lower body in the stool towards the older man, "You could say that." he replied.

Peggy, the waitress from before returned with a plate that had a sausage, two fried eggs and a slice of toast cut into two triangles and a mug of coffee was placed down straight after. "Thanks, Peggy."

"You're welcome, doll." she smiled before walking away.

The man started to eat his breakfast, and with a mouthful of egg, he swallowed it down before turning back to Tim, "I'm Robert, by the way. Robert Irvin." he introduced, holding out his hand for Tim to shake.

"Tim Williamson." he responded, meeting Robert's hand with his and exchanging a firm handshake.

"So, what brings you to this part of the world?" he questions, taking note of Tim's English accent during the introduction.

Taking a sip of his coffee with a light slurp, Tim knew that telling the truth would make him sound a little crazy, so he had to think of a little lie to gain Robert's trust for now. "Holiday."

"Of all the places in the world to choose from to vacation in, you choose Maryland?"

"I have some friends over here. I promised I'd visit when I could." Robert wasn't quite so convinced by Tim's answer but he decided not to question any longer.

Robert lowered his head back towards his plate but as it made it's way down, a glimpse of Tim's watch caught his eye. "Your watch. Not seen one like that before. Where d'you get it?"

"Family heirloom. It was given to me by my dad." he answered, pulling down his sleeve in an attempt to hide it, "Past down through the generations."

Robert shuffled rather nervously in his seat and cleared his throat. His whole demeanour changed when he saw the watch, but Tim didn't seem to pick up on that. "So, um, what are you really doing here?" he asks, with his mouth full of more of his breakfast. Tim looks at him blankly, before he pulls out a folded up piece of paper from the inside pocket of his jacket.

Sliding it over to him, Tim takes it and unfolds it, revealing a newspaper article showing the words ' _Time Travel Watch Surfaces_ '. Exactly the same article as one of the ones at the antique shop. The article contained a perfect description of the watch around Tim's wrist.

Tim looked through the article again, wondering if the Ellis' may have removed anything from it, he leaned closer to Robert. "Okay, look, I need you to help me." Tim confessed. "William Frazier. "

"Look, son, I can't help you." Robert got up to leave and after placing a few dollar bills on to the counter and alerting Peggy to their existence, he grabbed his coat from the stool next to him, and his hat from the counter. Folding his coat back up, he placed his hand back into his trouser pocket and draped the coat over his arm.

As Robert made his way out of the diner, Tim grabbed his lower arm forcing it out of his pocket, "Please, Robert. You clearly know _something_ about this watch, so you must know somewhere I can go."

Tim's blue eyes pleaded with him like a little child who was just about to burst into tears, so Robert took a deep breath as he looked at him. "Esme Booth. She's a psychic. I have no idea where she is, she lives somewhere in this state, but she keeps a very low profile. You'll have to dig deep to find her. That's all I can do for you. But I suggest you keep _that_ out of sight." he urged – referring to the watch – before patting Tim on the shoulder and leaving the diner.

Giving his old job back home, it seemed simple enough to him to track down one person who appeared hard to find. He had done it many times before in his fifteen plus year as a police officer. But back there he had a police database and some familiarity to work with, and here, he had almost nothing.

 **·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·**

Once Tim had finished the last of his coffee, he left the diner. He stepped outside and took a few minutes taking in the Maryland air. When he first got there, he felt okay, but since meeting Robert, he felt out of place and exposed, like everything was dream. There was a sudden shortness in his breath and his heart began to race before the palms of his hand started to feel clammy and his forehead started to feel damp from the sweat. He rushed over to the alley he arrived in, trying to catch his breath, gasping forcefully as he tried to fight the thick feeling of the air as he took it in.

Tim had no idea why this was happening, he was a police officer, tracking people down was something he was good at; so he couldn't understand why he was having a panic attack. He took a few more moments to calm down, and his heart was no longer beating fast enough to feel it was going to burst out of his chest.

He had no idea where to find the psychic, even Robert said she was hard to find as she keeps a low profile. Nearby was a local library and he thought that something in there could be useful and at this point, anything was worth a try and the library seemed a good place to start.

Making his way over there, he was still a little disorientated and bumped into a young woman who was walking in the opposite direction, "Sorry." Tim apologised.

"It's fine." the young lady replied before letting out a small giggle and brushing a part of her hair behind her ears.

There was a slight awkward silence before Tim spoke again, "Look, erm, I don't know if you can help me but I'm looking for a woman by the name of Esme Booth. She's apparently a psychic."

The young lady's face and behaviour completely changed in exactly the same way as Robert's did earlier. It made him wonder what was it about Esme that made everyone's behaviour change at the mention of her name. "No, I'm sorry. I have no idea where she is, sorry." she informed him, rushing away as fast as she could. He would've followed after her, but this time, he didn't have it in him and he just let her walk off.

Making his way over to the library, he hoped that there would be some kind of documents or phone book that he could look through for her name. Maybe something to suggest why her name seems to spark terror when it's mentioned. As he entered, he quickly found a phone book for the Maryland area. Finding the letter B in the residents section he hoped a Booth with the initial E would be there, but seeing as he remembered that she supposedly kept a low profile, he wasn't as hopeful as he was a few minutes ago.

His finger ran down all the Booth's in the phone book and there were only two shared the same initial as Esme. Taking out a scrap piece of paper and a pen he found in his jacket, he wrote down the two numbers before making his way to the nearest phone and phoning them with the last few coins that he had. The first number he called had nothing to offer, except a rude hang up of the phone when he mentioned her name; a reaction that seems to be normal around here. He phoned the other number and it rung twice before a little girl answered, "Hey, I'm looking for someone who goes by the name of Esme Booth." he said and all he heard was a little deep breathing over the other end of the handset.

"I'm sorry, I can't –" she replied, her voice sounded worried and a little scared.

Tim could sense her concern about Esme but he had to find her, "No, wait, please don't hang up." he pleaded. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Deborah."

Tim started to feel like he was fighting a losing battle very quickly and he rubbed his face in frustration, "Okay, Deborah, I'm Tim. I just need you to tell me about Esme and then I'll leave you alone and you can hang up." Tim did his best to speak in the calm tone that the years as a police officer had taught him, especially when dealing with children.

"She –" she began, the quivering in her voice evident to Tim.

"Deborah, hang up the phone. Now!" the little girls mother shouted over the phone and the line immediately went dead. Tim slammed the handset down and licked his lips before placing his head in his hands, blocking out the sunlight from his vision. When he felt someone brush up against him he lifted his head and looked to his left where the sensation came from and saw someone quickly walk away.

He looked down and noticed a small folded up piece of paper placed in front of the phone. Tim picked it up and unfolded it and on it a beautifully written name and address for Esme Booth. Smiling to himself, he wished he could chase after whoever left it but when he went to the end of the road, they had disappeared. Far too many people were dodging anything about Esme, and at least now he could find out why.

 **·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·**

Tim had managed to rent himself a car and promised to pay the money later, and he will when all of his questions were answered. A thirty minute drive to a place called Towson and after spending a few, what felt like, pointless minutes driving around looking for the address, he had to pull over and ask for help. But seeing as everyone else clams up whenever she is mentioned, he wasn't holding out much hope.

He took another drive around, and noticed a little alley that was big enough to drive though and he parked up the car and took a walk down the road, making sure it wasn't a dead end. As he got closer, a house is situated at the end of the long road that takes him into a large piece of land. He rushed back, getting the car and driving up the load road. Driving closer to the house, the outside made the house looked abandoned, old and run down but this was the address on the paper so she must live here, but looking at it, Tim wouldn't even house a dog in this building.

Gingerly, Tim got out of the car and walked towards the house, going up the couple of steps up to the front door. His balled up fist hovered in front of the door and after another deep breath, he bashed his knuckles on the wearing out wood. When the door opened, an old lady, hair almost as white as snow that took the attention away from her wrinkly dark skin. "Esme Booth?"

"What do you want?!" she snapped and her walking stick moving in all directions as she spoke.

Taking the watch of his wrist, he held it out to her, "I have a watch – a very specific watch – and I need to know more about it."

Esme took the watch and it wasn't long before her face fell and she shoved the watch back towards his forcefully into his stomach. "This watch is trouble. Goodbye."

She began to close the door but Tim held it open with his hand, and his foot stopping it from closing further. "No! Hold on. You must know about this watch. You won't be the first here to have done. So you know that I have come here in a specific way. I'm Tim Williamson, and I time travelled here from London, 2018. 66 years in your future. I was told to come here, and I was sent to you. So please, I am begging you that you tell me something, anything I don't already know about this watch. Please, Mrs Booth."

Tim's eyes pleaded again, and Esme looked at him. She saw the desperation in his eyes, and she was conflicted about what to do. "I can give to 10 minutes and then, I never want to see you or that watch again."

Her words worried Tim, nobody wanted him to know about this watch, and people seemed to hate the fact he had it, and that led them to not wanting to tell him anything. Maybe Esme will give him some kind of information that he didn't already know.


End file.
